Noblesse Oblige
by Occurs
Summary: When Draco Malfoy becomes persona non grata in the wizarding world, he's forced to rely on an old schoolmate for help. Will be Seamus/Draco.
1. Once Step and You're Over Your Head

Title: Noblesse Oblige  
  
Chapter One: One step and you're over your head.  
  
Author: Occurs (missoccurs@hotmail.com)  
  
Series: Harry Potter  
  
Rating: This Chapter? PG. Later chapters? R.   
  
Notes: Takes place roughly one year after what would be the seventh book, placing  
everyone in the eighteen to twenty year range. Will eventually be Seamus/Draco,  
and if the idea of boys liking boys turns your stomach, I advise you to turn back  
before you ever start on the fic.   
  
Seamus Finnigan leaned back on the bar counter, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he   
inhaled long puffs of smoke. His touseled sandy hair fell loosely onto his face, badly in need of a   
cut, and his thick fingers brushed it away with lazy grace as he traveled the room with his eyes.   
  
"Solo tonight, are ya Finnigan?" Asked the barkeep, shaking up a copper flask for an older   
gentleman who sat patiently in the company of a boyish, most-likely paid, escort. Flicking scant traces   
of ash to the floor, Seamus nodded.   
  
"Rodney hates me at present. Or says he does. Or is currently shacking up with Linden and   
needs a nice excuse." He gave a 'what can ya do?' shrug and grinned. "But there's a lot to be said for   
going out for a jaunt by yourself..."   
  
"Aye, but not as much as there is to be said for going with another, if you catch me." The   
man from down the counter laughed, downing his drink and hastily and waving the bartender for another.   
  
"True that." Seamus sighed and stared out through the smoky haze and the sea of muggle faces.   
He couldn't regret that since leaving Hogwarts in his sixth year he'd been spending more and more time in   
London proper, and less and less in the wizarding world. Being a half-breed he had been raised in this life,   
and magical arts had at best been a fun game. He was grateful for the ability, of course, but with all the   
secrets and politics that went into just surviving in a community that by it's very nature had to remain   
hidden from nine-tenths of the world...He took a long drag. Living out in the open was infinitely more   
pleasurable...even though he couldn't deny that his current lifestyle wasn't too much better as far as secrets   
went. But then there was the little fact that muggle money was far easier to come by, and his father's   
business had always been far more appealing than his mother's world of potions and spells. And, as any of   
his teachers could have attested to, Seamus had far more talent managing muggle life than attempting certain   
charms.  
  
A sudden hush descended on the bar, and Seamus shook his head. It was the kind of silence you   
often hear in well established places when someone other than the equally well-established clientele dares   
to enter.   
  
"Now that's a fit bloke." He heard a voice from his left mutter, and Seamus turned to see who was   
getting such a reaction. The cigarette dropped from his lips as he saw the tall blonde form who was moving   
towards the bar, arrogantly staring down gazes both distrustful and lust-filled. Stamping out the smoking   
butt, Seamus straightened to intercept the not-quite a stranger, whom he was sure had no idea what kind of   
place he'd wandered his pretty little aristocratic self into.   
  
"Oy, Malfoy!"   
  
Draco Malfoy's head shot up, and he stared for long moments at the ex-Gryffindor. Before he could   
put into words exactly the kind of confusion he was feeling, Finnigan had grabbed him by the arm, muttered   
a few incomprehensible words to the muggles who were watching him hungrily, and was pulling him off to a   
corner booth.   
  
"Just cutting to the chase, aren't ya Finnigan?" A ruddy-complected man grinned through gap   
teeth as the Irishman and the wizard brushed past him. Malfoy sneered, about to say something before being   
pushed into a vinyl covered seat by the taller young man. Blue eyes met with hazel as they both opened their   
mouths to speak at the same instant.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
Seamus wouldn't have even bothered to ask, if he could think of one plausible reason why the heir to   
one of the most powerful wizarding families in England, not to mention one of the most pro-pureblood people he   
had ever met, was slinking into a seedy London muggle gay bar in the middle of the night. Just one good, or   
even adequate, reason, and he would leave well enough alone, wish Draco on his merry way, and not speak to him   
again. He was fairly sure, however, that the boy was clueless. Just his look of shocked disgust as he caught   
sight of the two lads snogging across the way proved it. And despite the fact that Malfoy had never been the   
most pleasant of individuals, it made Seamus feel just a bit protective.   
  
"What are you doing here?" Draco repeated, trying to maintain some dignity and control over the   
situation.  
  
"Just out looking for a good time, Malfoy." The Irishman smiled a smile that showed a bit too   
much teeth at Draco's obvious naïveté. "Now will you answer my question?"  
  
"I was just..." The defensiveness in the voice was obvious, but the words were cut off as he put   
the scene, the patrons, and Finnigan's presence together.   
  
"Is that why you pulled me over? You were going to..." Despite the muggle clothing Draco wore, Seamus   
could see the outline of his wand in the deep pockets of the trenchcoat he wore, the pocket in which he was now   
reaching. 'No tact', the older boy thought, his momentary protective urge fleeing with the remembrance of what   
absolute arseholes the Malfoys were.   
  
"Draco, if you think I pulled you over because I wanted a crack at seducin' ya, you're an even more   
arrogant git than you were when we started school." He began harshly. "I only tried to rescue you because you are   
obviously quite out of your element, but if you want me to leave you to the men here who eat fresh protesting   
young things for breakfast, at this point I'd be more than happy to."  
  
The words must have hit home, because Draco faltered, then fell silent, his mouth curving into an   
expression of only mild disgust but still he remained doggedly silent.  
  
"So again, Malfoy...what are you doing here?" Seamus continued, trying to keep annoyance out of his   
voice. Draco shifted in his seat, looked around again, and curled his lip.  
  
"I'm not talking about it."  
  
"Right then." Seamus got to his feet and gave a jaunty wave. "Well, nice to have seen you, Malfoy."   
His tone was clipped as he turned to go. 'Even God only helps those who help themselves.' He gave a mental sigh.   
The Irishman paused, however, as long fingers wrapped themselves around his wrist.  
  
"Wait." Draco commanded in that hegemonic tone he had, his voice touched with something akin to hunger.   
The fingers gripped tightly, and Seamus flinched. He looked down at the smaller boy with curiosity. Draco's eyes,   
while customarily cold and almost expressionless, had a touch of...well, if Seamus hadn't known better, he would   
have said it was fear, or maybe loneliness. But seeing Malfoy here tonight had proved that he really didn't know   
better, so this could be another logical step. He didn't, however, think he even wanted to know what kinds of things   
could etch that look on someone so...he couldn't think of the right word to properly sum up what he thought of Draco.   
Mindlessly obnoxious? Mindless, anyway. Seamus sat back down, with a mental smack to the forehead. It was definitely   
not his business to deal with someone who apparently just realized that there was a world beyond themselves. But   
here he was anyway, being held by nothing more than a loosening grip and pleading gaze from someone who didn't   
even realize or want the fact that Seamus was rapidly gaining a feeling of obligation to his troubled schoolmate.   
Cursing under his breath, he damned to the hells whoever decided that he would be the one here tonight, and took a   
deep breath.   
  
"Why don't we just get out?" He suggested, eyeing Draco over. There was no way he was ever going to get   
and explanation in this kind of place.   
  
"Excellent idea." Draco stood up a little too quickly, knocking the table as he rose to his feet. Seamus   
followed him as he began to move out, giving his inebriated barfriends a look that plainly explained that one catcall   
or joke would land them on the other side of Finnigan's fist. A friendly wave from the barkeep was all he got as he   
left the warm pub for the cold London midnight.   
  
"Look, Malfoy," Seamus sighed, fumbling in his pocket for the last cig he had on him, then lighting it   
with a practiced flick of a cheap lighter. "I won't even ask. You're not going to talk to me, we're by no means   
friends, and it's quite frankly none of mine what hobbies you've picked up for amusement. I'll walk you to Diagon,   
only so you don't get lost, and that'll be that."  
  
Draco didn't answer, only paused on the corner of the deserted cross streets, hands shoved deep into   
his pockets, and stared up at the white moon hanging at her height in the sky. Seamus was suddenly struck by what   
everyone at the pub had seen from the first instant Draco had tripped heedlessly in: the young wizard was beautiful.   
Cold beauty, to be sure, with his platinum hair and ivory skin, but that didn't take away from the fact that every   
line that made up his form was perfectly realized. 'Eh, moonlight makes everyone look better.' Seamus grumbled   
internally, but that didn't stop him from feeling somehow inferior to this white-washed statue of a young man who,   
he was rapidly realizing, he hadn't really looked at since they were first years. Standing in front of the impeccably   
dressed and coifed Malfoy with his shaggy hair and battered leather coat, Seamus realized with a touch of annoyed ego,   
he probably looked like he was going to mug the boy.   
  
  
"I'm not going to Diagon." The words hung in the air with such sharp simplicity that Seamus was sure he   
had picked up the wrong implication.   
  
"Oh, yah, right, right...you can just apperate to wherever you want to...so off with ya." He took a   
long drag and blew the smoke in Malfoy's general direction.   
  
"You misunderstand, Finnigan." The expression in Draco's eyes was like the small hard stones that rest   
at the bottom of an otherwise peaceful lake. "I'm not going to Diagon, or Hogsmede, or anywhere else in wizard's   
world. And apparently won't be ever again."  
  
And for the second time that night Seamus Finnigan lost a perfectly good cigarette to shock.  
  
  
  
Author's Notes: None really. Please read and review. :D 


	2. Charity Begins at Home

Title: Noblesse Oblige

Chapter Two: Charity begins at home, and all that…

Author: Occurs (missoccurs@hotmail.com)

Series: Harry Potter

Rating: This is probably, um…PG? Some mild language. 

Notes: Still a year after the seventh book, still slash, still needs to be full screen I think. I wrote this

a long time ago, well before OotP, and if there are any conflicts that's why. It's all AU anyway,

ne? ^-^; 

            "Pick up, ya  bugger," Seamus sighed into his cell phone, tapping his fingers against the rail of the small balcony precariously

attached to his flat. 

            "Dean here." 

            Seamus broke into a wide grin at the familiar voice, taking a chance and leaning against the rusty railing. 

            "And Seamus Finnigan here." There was a delighted exclamation of surprise on the other end of the line. 

            "It's been ages, Seamus! How are ya? What are ya doing? You're lucky I picked up this bloody phone at all…you could have 

sent an owl." 

            "No doing right now, Dean…" From the corner of his eye Seamus could see Draco lying on his couch, apparently napping. 

Good. He was much easier to deal with unconscious. "I need some information, and I can't think of another wizard who would 

keep a cell on them."

            "Dubious honor, that, but me parents won't have it otherwise." The smile in the voice was obvious. "But whatever ya need,

shoot." 

            "Well…" Seamus' gaze was now firmly focused on his sleeping guest, and he pressed his fingertips intently against the doorframe. "I was just 

wondering, and you can't ask me why I was wondering this, but what ever happened to Draco Malfoy?"  

            There was palpable silence. Finally, Dean had to break it. "Why on earth possessed you to think of that no-good, slimy, traitorous git?" His tone held no hint of mockery, nothing but cold hatred with a hint of surprise at the question. 

            _Traitorous git?_Seamus clucked his tongue against his teeth. "Can't tell ya that. Nothin' bad, though, I promise. Just heard a 

…rumor… that he's not welcome in magical circles anymore." It was probably as safe a story as any, though Dean knew as well as Seamus that

the latter's chances to hear wizard gossip were few and far between. But that point was politely ignored, and then Dean was telling Seamus everything he wanted

to know. 

            "….helped bring back the fekin' Dark Wizard himself, got off with a slap on the wrist….oh, broke his wand and all that, claimed it was daddy

all along who was putting on the pressure…if ya ask me, the ministry went soft on that pretty face of his…yah, Lucius was left to the dementors, not 

that they sucked much joy outa the bastard, but good riddance…well of course no one wants him around, even his family wouldn't be caught housing

him now…shouldn't be anyone to house him, anyway, they should've taken the lot of Malfoys and…" Here the rant broke off into a stream of 

exclamations and curses and Seamus felt his head slide forward until it touched the cool glass. Bloody hell. Somehow he had always thought it would

end up like this. Maybe not precisely end up like him having an infamous dark wizard who apparently was part of the revival of Voldemort's reign of

terror slumbering peacefully on his couch on an otherwise lovely Sunday morning. Okay, maybe nothing like having an accused dark wizard under his

roof at all. Something in the back of his mind told him there must be some logic to this situation, but it was rapidly losing out to the sinking feeling in 

the pit of his stomach and the chorus of 'well, now we're screwed' running through the forefront of his brain. 

            "Seamus? You still there?"

            "Yeah, yeah…" The Irishman managed to swallow, realizing all of a sudden that his throat was dry. "You don't think Malfoy's dangerous, do

you?" 

            "Of _course he's dangerous!" Dean exclaimed, and Seamus could hear him slam his palm against something for emphasis. "Are you daft? He's_

probably killed people…I suppose you didn't know that twenty seven wizards and witches are still missing, did you?"

            "Probably, not proven, right?" Please oh please let it just be probably…

            "I think you are a little daft, mate, or else sorely out of touch." Dean paused when he realized for some reason his words were about to send

his best friend into a mild state of panic. "Of course nothing was proven. Do you think they'd have let him off so easily if they'd had something concrete?"

            Seamus paused, remembering something. "You say they snapped his wand?"

            "Yeah, that's what I said…"  _And why the hell is this so important, Seamus? Dean thought. "But that doesn't mean he doesn't have one. Wouldn't_

 put anything past that smarmy little….."  

            "Right, then. Thanks mate." And before Dean could say a goodbye, the phone had been shut and the line was dead. 

            From where he was on the couch, Draco could see pretty much the whole of the London apartment, which certainly said something for the cramped 

surroundings. He sat up, stretching like satisfied cat. It had certainly felt good to sleep, better still to wake up without worry. Slicking back his hair with 

his fingers, he swung his legs over the side of the settee and was vaguely troubled by the fact that he was no longer wearing shoes. Or his coat for that matter. 

He didn't remember taking them off, but then again after Finnigan had drug them both back to his flat about one, he wasn't really in a state to remember 

anything. With a soft groan, he rubbed his face, wishing hard for clean clothes. But wishing wasn't getting him anywhere. He reached behind the couch, 

then, when that proved fruitless, felt around on the floor for the black trenchcoat that contained his salvation…or could at least, with the proper words,  provide him with something decent to wear. 

            "Looking for this?" Seamus leaned against the wall next to the kitchen, his fingers closed tightly around a thick-handled wooden wand. His expression

contained no hint of joviality, no trace of the resigned companionship he had offered last night. Draco's feet scraped against the rugged floor as he sat

back on his hands. 

            "Yes." The blonde boy answered cautiously. Seamus looked down at the thing in his hand, feeling odd pulsations of raw power emitting from it, 

even in it's inactive state. The feeling was unpleasant, like touching an arctic electrical wire where the cold seared as much as the shock stung. 

            "Malfoy." He began in deadly earnestness. "I am going to expect you to be totally honest with me." Draco let out a small snort. This was exactly

how his ministry investigation had started, and it didn't particularly mattered if it was the truth or a lie he told. Unless he agreed with their image of what

he had done, everything he said was treated as a falsehood.  But this didn't matter nearly as much. After all, Finnigan couldn't do much more than throw him 

out of his flat, and, in all honesty, Draco wouldn't put up too much of a fight about leaving. He had, as far as he was concerned, put up with enough

shite already from the ministry and the population, and that might soon include the prodigal half-breed who was holding his wand hostage. 

            "I will be totally honest," Draco began, his voice carrying a ring of authenticity. "but you have to promise to take me at my word."

            Seamus' lip curled. Trust Draco Malfoy? Sheer lunacy, that's what that was. He'd say he trusted the boy about as far as he could throw him,

but, as he looked again at the slight eighteen year old, he could probably throw him a considerable distance. Only about 5'7'', Seamus would say…

But he was getting off track. The point, before he lost it, was that the snake expected him to believe whatever he said, when there was no way

he would tell the truth…

            "Finnigan, if you're not going to believe me anyway, here's a lovely lie for you. I was actually in charge of the Death Eater raids, killed at least

one hundred and thirty two mudbloods with my own wand, got away with it because I managed to do a little dark casting over my jury, and that wand

you're holding right now belongs to my lord Voldemort, who trusted me with it before Potter destroyed him." Draco sat back, smiling at the look

of shock, hatred, and fear that played over Finnigan's strong features. "Or you can try this one. I had nothing whatsoever to do with it. Didn't even know.

My father barely spoke to me, hoping that keeping me at Hogwarts and out of the situation would save me from his fate. He was a decent man, underneath

it all, willing to pay his own service and life to keep his son safe." The blonde head shook as he saw that his accuser's expression hadn't changed. "See

which one you were more willing to believe?"

            "So what's the truth, Malfoy? What did you do?" Seamus shifted the rod between his hands, almost unable to stand the icy burning. 

            "The truth is a lovely shade of gray." Draco sighed, leaning forward and crossing his legs at the knee. "And put that down, Finnigan, before

you just drop it and cause all sorts of unpleasantness." He saw the taller boy's hesitation and gave him a hard look. "I'm not going to lunge for it,

okay? Stand in front of it if you have to, but set it down." Seamus complied, settling for placing the wand on the windowsill and using his own 

body as a guard. 

            "Anyway," Draco continued, committing himself to the story now that he realized he had very few options. "I was involved…" He held up

a placating hand as Seamus set to jump forward, "I didn't know anything! That I swear to." And the Irishman leaned back. "I was being used for

intelligence." Draco closed his eyes and tilted his chin downward. "My father would send me things to do, information to gather, materials he needed 

from Hogwarts, and of course I complied…"

            "And you didn't know that he was trying to get materials for dark magic?" Seamus interrupted, incredulous. He had always thought Draco

was a bit dense from his egotism, no doubt about that, but that would have taken an incredibly stupid person not to have a clue…Draco's eyes

flew open, and this time it was he giving Finnigan the 'Gods, you're stupid' look. 

            "Of _course I knew he was working dark magic." A clucked tongue and cold look silenced what would have been another outburst. "You_

don't understand, I suppose, not many modern wizards do. We Malfoys have worked black arts for centuries. Darkness is simply the other 

side of light, like death is the other side of life. Only recently have other wizards started to realize that death can be positive, and, likewise, darkness 

does not always equal evil. Power, yes, power beyond what most will experience in long years of work, but it is, in itself, neutral." His voice was

hypnotic, and Seamus realized he had never heard his former classmate speak more than a few caustic words at a time. Now, talking about his

family legacy, he seemed almost animated, with something other than coldness in his voice. Before Seamus could interrupt again, Draco continued.

            "So when Father sent me lists or information to glean, I was eager to help. I suppose, as cliché as it sounds, I thought I was doing my bit

for our side. I thought my father, like Professor Snape, wanted to fight fire with fire, for few things can match an evil dark wizard like a dark wizard

on the side of the people. You must believe, though I doubt you do, I wanted nothing to do with Voldemort after seeing him firsthand. I thought my

Father, who had even more experience with him than I did, felt the same. I was damned wrong, of course. So you could say I had a role in the

hunts and the killing, and the…"

            "Stop." Seamus rubbed at his temples. He didn't want hear about the blood and the carnage and the war. "Skip to the end."

            "And I'm here." Malfoy smiled infuriatingly. It faded to a smirk as he uncrossed his legs and folded his arms instead. "Oh, too late? Well. I went 

up before the ministry, of course. I plead my case, they didn't believe me, but couldn't prove any different. My wand was broken, and I was 

technically put on magical probation." Seamus' hand flew behind him, and Draco nodded. "Yes, that's my wand, and yes, before you ask, I did

use dark magic to repair it." His voice added the 'so there' that he was too mature to actually speak. "It's not operating at full capacity, of course."

            "Right then." The entire story sounded, well, perfectly true. Had Draco been bad, he could have thrown him out without a second thought. 

Had he been a wrongfully accused good guy, Seamus could have taken him in without a second thought and valiantly championed for him to be

reintroduced to wizard society. Bloody hell. "And you were out looking for…"

            "Just for somewhere quiet to think about my options." 

            "I see…"

            "What about you?" Draco stood, suddenly tired of passively sitting. "You left in our fifth year, didn't you? What on earth do you do 

with these…muggles? I heard your sister saying something about newspapers at graduation."

            "Beginning of the Sixth, and I write freelance." Seamus corrected tiredly, him brain still wired on overload. "And you might be able to convince me you're not quite guilty, Malfoy, but you won't be able to convince me you actually care about what I've been doing." 

            "You're right about that. I was just thinking fair play." Draco gave a pretty shrug, and moved to take his wand. "You can just

forget about it." He ran the wood through his fingers, smiling as it made an audible hum when claimed by its master. 

            "Why don't you go get cleaned up?" Seamus offered. He had the sinking feeling that he was going to do something extremely stupid,

and wanted Malfoy out of the way while he thought about it. "Loo's through there." He pointed. "If you need help figuring out how to use anything,

let me know."

            "I took muggle studies, Finnigan." Draco replied crisply. He shook his wand slightly, and Seamus had to shudder at the

flickering currents it gave off. He couldn't comprehend how Draco could be comfortable wielding something with such unsettling power. 

The aristocrat moved off, his feet not even making sounds in the wooden hall that lead to the bathroom. 

            Well damn. Seamus lay his head in his hands, his fingers combing through his messy sand-colored locks. He had already figured out what he

was going to do. He was going to ask Draco to stay, against his better judgment, try to help him, again against his better judgment, most likely 

develop a pointless sense of responsibility for his acquaintance, and end up paying all hell for it later. The image that came to his mind was

from when he was eleven, and had the wrinkled and scratchy sorting hat placed on his head. 

            "Well, you're not the brightest, are you, boy?" The hat had whispered, and Seamus' knees felt like jelly. " No Ravenclaw for you... You work hard 

and are loyal, but no, too rash for Hufflepuff…Slytherin, hm, now that would be interesting, but you won't seek the power you'd need…but I do see

a streak of chivalry that would make Godric proud…GRYFFINDOR!" At that point he couldn't hear anything, for between the hat's triumphant yell and

the cheers of Gryffindor house, he had gone quite deaf. 

            'So the damned chivalry rears it's ugly head again.' The Irishman thought unhappily, feeling the urge to bang his head against 

something. Before he could decide whether the wall or the window would be preferable for slamming his skull, Draco emerged from the bathroom,

looking as calm and impeccable as ever. His dark green silken shirt was perfectly pressed, and the black jeans fit like a second skin. Every hair

had been combed and fixed into its ideal position, and Seamus decided the first thing he was going to try and make Draco do was get dressed 

like a muggle…the last thing he wanted to live with was a cocky little git who could magically make himself up from the pages of GQ every morning.

And envy, he assured himself, played absolutely no part in that decision.

            "Well, Malfoy, looks like you'll be staying with me." 

Draco was so taken aback that he laughed out loud, and Seamus sighed. He had expected a little less than sniveling gratitude from the snot, 

but not much…

            "Why on earth would I stay with you, Finnigan?" The words were out of Draco's mouth before he could stop them. Needed or no, the idea of charity turned his blue-blooded stomach.

            "Maybe because you have no money, no skills except being bloody obnoxious, and nowhere else to go." 

            "What do you want from me?" Draco's voice was suddenly suspicious, his pale eyes narrowing. He crossed his arms in front of 

himself, as if guarding his body from scrutiny, and it was Seamus' turn to laugh. Apparently gratitude didn't get nearly as far as paranoid

arrogance. 

            "Lets just say I have a feeling that taking you in is going to make up for all my past sins." The tone was innocently pleasant and Draco

relaxed slightly, missing the slight jab in the statement. 

            "You'll have to sleep on the couch, of course…"

            "What? !" Draco's look of shock at not having a proper bed was almost amusing enough to wipe out Seamus' feeling of dread at this 

endeavor. 

            "And probably have to get a job, once you learn the ropes of living like a muggle…" 

            "But, but…" The boy spluttered, obviously blown away by this prospect. "You said you were taking me in for charity or something, you

can't expect me to work…"

            "Ah, yes, penance." Seamus smiled, giving a cheerful shrug. "but I'll tell you now, Malfoy…I haven't sinned all that much."


End file.
